


This Ain't A Scene, It's A School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry

by Elandis



Category: Fall Out Boy, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, takes place about ten years after the seventh book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:15:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3709455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elandis/pseuds/Elandis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dallon Weekes and Brendon Urie have hated each other since they first arrived at Hogwarts. Nobody can even remember why the feud started (although Dallon swears it was Urie's fault). The two have coexisted in this mutual state of hatred for five years, and based on available evidence that doesn't look like it's about to change, much to the chagrin of everybody who knows them (with the exception of Pete, who actually quite enjoys seeing the Gryffindor asshole get owned).</p><p>But somebody at the school has plans that could threaten the freedom of the entire wizarding world, and Dallon and Brendon might have just unwittingly become the only people who can stop them. Can they put their differences aside to save the entire world from the hidden mastermind and prevent the Third Wizarding War?</p><p>Probably not. But we'll see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“PETER LEWIS KINGSTON FUCKING WENTZ!”  
The currently lilac-haired student stuck his head through the door. “The third,” he added calmly. “If we’re doing full names I mean, Dallon James Weekes.”  
Dallon James Weekes refused to reply, instead choosing to try and set the other Slytherin on fire with the sheer force of his glare.  
“Did you want something, or did you just want to stare at me all day? I mean, I know I’m incredibly attractive, but I do have other things to do. Besides,” he gave Dallon a sleazy smile, “I thought you had a thing for Urie.”  
This was enough to break Dallon out of his rage. He gave a shudder. “Don’t even joke about that. He’s such a prick I think I’d rather neck myself than have any sort of…relationship with him.” He gave another shudder, then turned back to Pete. “But stop changing the subject!” He gestured furiously at his trunk. Or rather, the former contents of his trunk, some of which were strewn across the floor and some of which were nowhere to be seen. “What is this?”  
Pete shrugged. “Wasn’t me.”  
Dallon made a noise of disbelief. “Right. So who else could it have been? The house elves?”  
“Cross my heart.” When Dallon snorted derisively, he shrugged again. “Look, I’ll even help you clean up.”  
Dallon tutted in annoyance. “If it wasn’t you, who was it? I mean, nobody’s been in here apart from us two since the start of the holidays.”  
“Dunno, man. Maybe it actually was one of the house elves?”  
Dallon sighed in frustration. “Well, did you see anyone this morning while I was out flying?”  
“Nah dude, I was out too, remember. Went down to Hogsmeade with Trohman. Hufflepuffs are the shit.”  
“No…” Dallon frowned. “No, I saw you when I came back. You were leaving just as I came in.”  
“Nope. I was down there till three.”  
Dallon ran a hand through his hair, thinking. Then, all of a sudden, a thought came to him. “Hey, when did you change your hair colour?”  
“Last night. Felt like a change, you know. I dunno if I like it though…” He thought for a moment, then scrunched up his face in concentration. His hair turned bright pink. “What about this?” He laughed.  
Dallon closed his eyes wearily. When he’d seen Pete this morning, his hair had still been platinum blonde.  
“Pete.” Dallon sighed heavily. “I think someone got hold of your hair.”  
“Oh.” Pete’s grin fell. “Polyjuice. Oh shit.”  
“Yeah.”  
Pete fumed. Dallon could empathise. It was never nice finding out someone had been walking around with your face on. “Who do you reckon it was?”  
“Well, not any of the midgets. Unless it was those stupid third years, Barakat and Gaskarth and whoever the others are.”  
“It’s not their style.” Dallon frowned. “Okay, just think. Who at the school has it out for me?”  
Pete raised his eyebrow. “Think you just answered your own question, mate.”  
“What –”Dallon stopped. He growled. “Oh my god, that son of a bitch.”

Dallon Weekes and Brendon Urie had been enemies ever since they met. Nobody could actually remember why – although Dallon was sure Urie must have done something stupid on their first day at school. The point was that theirs was the largest vendetta the school had seen in a long time. Some said it rivalled even the Potter-Malfoy feud.  
This was no fault of Dallon’s, of course. He hardly ever started anything, he just retaliated when he had to. Like that time he put a spell on Urie’s cauldron that transfigured any potion made in it into a cure for boils when the user wasn’t looking. He wouldn’t have done that if Urie hadn’t turned his eyebrows rainbow-coloured in the middle of Charms class while he was doing a demonstration.  
Yes, Dallon knew it was a little childish. But that thought was completely overshadowed by the fact that it was totally worth it. 

Dallon raced down the corridors towards the Gryffindor tower, muttering a constant stream of curses under his breath. “That fucking twat…fucking fuckwad…fuck him and his stupid-ass shit…”  
Pete jogged after him. “You know, as a sixth year I should probably stop you from doing something stupid. Be responsible and all that.”  
Dallon slowed and turned around. “Are you going to?”  
“No way man. This’ll be entertaining. You go set his eyebrows on fire.”  
Dallon nodded. “Right.”  
He could never quite understand Pete properly – the sixth-year spoke with such a cynical tone it was hard to tell when he was being serious. Nevertheless, he had been one of Dallon’s closest friends since Dallon’s first year. And for some reason he could never pass up a chance to see Dallon on a revenge mission.

He walked on a bit slower towards the tower. As he walked, he started to notice very familiar articles of clothing dotted around the halls. He grimaced and quickened his pace. He didn't have a plan in mind; he was fixed on his primary goal - confrontation.  
He got his chance sooner than he thought.  
As he walked into the Entrance Hall, he spotted the nauseating douchebag in question standing with his little posse – Spencer Smith, Ryan Ross and Jon Walker. A perfect picture of inter-house unity if ever there was. With, of course, a notable absence of Slytherins.  
Dallon slowed his pace and walked casually down the stairs. He arranged his face into a sickly-sweet smile.  
“Urie! Fancy seeing you here.”  
Urie turned. “Well,” he said, a matching leer appearing on his face. “Look who it is.”  
“Say, Urie, what’s your opinion on the legal restrictions on potion-making?”  
Urie didn’t miss a beat. “I have no strong opinions one way or the other.”  
“What about particular potions?” Dallon smiled. “Say, Polyjuice?”  
Urie nodded. “It has its uses, I suppose.”  
Dallon nodded too, smile still plastered to his face. “Like, oh, I don’t know, breaking into other people’s rooms? Maybe stealing their things and throwing them all over the place?”  
Urie raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you like to do? I mean I knew you were a little, well, unbalanced, but I really think you should see Madame Pomfrey, get your head checked.”  
“Okay, that is it!” Dallon couldn’t keep it up. “You are such a fucking dickhead, you know that?”  
Urie smirked. “Oh god, what did I say about your head again? You know talking to yourself is a sign of madness.”  
“Oh my - how is it actually possible for you to be this full of yourself? I don’t know how the fuck this lot even tolerate you!" He gestured vaguely at the group. "They probably stay with you out of pity.”  
Urie’s smirk fell. “You don’t talk shit about my friends.”  
Dallon gave a bitter laugh. “Friends? I think you forgot the air quotes –”  
“ _Locomotor mortis_!” Dallon’s legs suddenly froze up. He looked up at Urie, who had his wand out, pointed at Dallon.  
“You don’t KNOW SHIT ABOUT MY FRIENDS AND YOU DON’T FUCKING TALK SHIT ABOUT THEM!” Urie screamed.  
Urie’s sudden rage disoriented Dallon. The guy was an idiot, sure, but he never got riled up like this – whenever Dallon had insulted him before, even about his friends, the guy had just gotten more annoying. Dallon had never been in a situation where Urie was the one to lose his temper. Evidently, the scenario was foreign to Urie’s friends as well; they had started to back away slightly.  
Well, if Urie really wanted a duel…  
“ _Circumversio_!” he yelled. Urie suddenly started to backflip uncontrollably away from him. Dallon mentally congratulated himself – the spell had been one of his own creation, and so far he’d only tested it on himself. He didn’t have long to celebrate though, as after a few rotations Urie righted himself and turned, snarling, towards the taller boy, and lashed out before Dallon could react.  
“ _Everte statum_!” roared Urie. Dallon was thrown backwards. As he fell, he reached out his hands to cushion his fall. As he hit the ground, he heard a sickening crack and felt a sharp pain in his left arm. He still couldn’t move his legs, so he twisted around onto his good arm, pointed his wand at Urie and yelled “ _Cantis_!” Immediately, Urie started to sing, something unfamiliar. The Gryffindor’s eyes widened in fury and he seemed to try and produce another curse, but all that came out of his mouth was, “ _Can we fast-forward till you go down on me_?”  
Dallon couldn’t help himself – he snorted. Wincing slightly, he gave Urie a simpering look. “Why Brendon, I had no idea you cared.”  
In hindsight, he really shouldn’t have provoked him.  
The next thing he knew, the world was upside down and he could feel blood rushing to his head. Urie was still muttering the lyrics to some song Dallon didn’t know, a murderous expression of almost animalistic rage on his face. His eyes were so wide Dallon thought they might fly out of his head.  
Suddenly, Urie’s demeanour changed. His furious expression suddenly became a cold sneer. It was so cruel it looked out of place even on Urie’s face, and Dallon was suddenly filled with an unshakeable sense of dread.  
Urie started to speak. The _cantis_ jinx seemed to have worn off. “Oh poor, dear boy,” he crooned. “You thought you could actually contend with me. How quaint. I fear you’ll come to regret it.” He raised his wand slowly, pointing it at Dallon’s head.  
Dallon’s eyes widened. Suddenly, almost instinctively, he whipped his wand up one last time and yelled, “ _Stupefy_ ”. Because he was hanging upside down, his aim was off, so the spell hit Urie in the foot, causing him to just fall over rather than knocking him out. But rather than picking himself up, he stayed flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling with an almost confused expression. Then, after a few moments, he got up, as if unsure of what to do next. He spotted Dallon hanging in the air and frowned, then, almost absentmindedly, he raised his wand.  
A new voice said quietly, “ _Petrificus totalus_.” Dallon found himself suddenly not only upside down, but also completely immobilised. As he swung slowly round, he saw that Urie had been affected similarly.  
Standing in between Urie’s lackeys and Pete was Professor Longbottom, a disappointed look on his face.

As the last rays of sunlight trickled through the windows of the hospital wing, Professor Longbottom walked through the doors and seated himself on a chair in between the beds of the two boys. Urie had gotten off with minor bruising; Dallon, on the other hand, was currently recovering from an arm broken in two places.  
The professor looked from one boy to the other, silent. Just as Dallon started to feel quite awkward, he spoke.  
“Boys,” he began. “First of all, I would like to say that I am incredibly disappointed in the both of you. As fifth years, you should be setting an example for the younger students, not carrying yourselves like we witnessed this afternoon.  
“Secondly, I have some things to say to both of you individually. First, Mr Weekes. According to the students who witnessed the incident, you used a spell that none of them recognised. Could you tell me what this spell was?”  
Dallon looked down. “I, uh…I invented it. I mean, I don’t think anyone else has come up with them before, so…”  
The professor nodded. “While it is commendable that you are inventing new spells, the fact that you used them on another student was incredibly irresponsible. You have no knowledge of whether or not these spells have side effects or even what will happen when you use them on another person. It was very dangerous.  
“And now Mr Urie. If the witnesses recall correctly, while Mr Weekes used only irritating hexes like _cantis_ and the aforementioned original spells, you used some magic which could have had serious repercussions. If you had used _everte statum_ with more force than you had, you could have dealt Mr Weekes injuries much more serious than a broken bone.”  
Urie looked angry. “But sir, I –”  
Professor Longbottom gave him a rather severe look. “Mr Urie, if you are about to give me some excuse as to why you were in the right and Mr Weekes in the wrong, I suggest you do not continue. The way I see it, you are both at fault as much as the other.  
“Because of the fact that this encounter could have taken a much more severe turn, I will be deducting fifty points from each of your respective houses.” He waved off their protests. “I could have chosen to deduct more, but I did not see the need to make your houses suffer too much for your foolish behaviour. In addition to this, you will both have joint detention four evenings a week for a month.”  
“…What?”  
Dallon shook his head. “Sir, you can’t put me in detention with him, he’s a complete maniac!”  
Urie’s eyes widened. “ _I’m_ the maniac? Look who’s talking!”  
Longbottom held up his hand to silence them. He suddenly looked quite tired. “Boys,” he said. “I know that this feud of yours has become something of a habit. Don’t let it become an obsession.” He sighed. “I knew two boys who used to fight like you did, while I was a student here. They both allowed it to dictate their actions, and it resulted in a lot of pain and suffering. Hate does not care about the wellbeing of others. Hate only consumes, destroys. I don’t want to see you two end up in the situations they did.”  
There was a silence. Then Longbottom stood up. “Well, I think that covers everything. I hope you both get better soon. Your detentions will start once school does. Enjoy the rest of your holidays.”  
He walked off. Dallon looked over at Urie, who looked slightly stunned. Urie seemed to realise he was being watched and turned to look back at him.  
“Fuck off, asshole.”  
Dallon scowled and turned away. Oh god was this going to be a long month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there should be more hogwarts crossovers, don't you?
> 
> This was quite a short chapter, so hopefully the next ones will be longer.
> 
> For anyone who's worried (this may be nobody, but just in case) this will not be one of those "i secretly love you so i beat you up" type relationships because, apart from anything else, that would be a prime case of what tumblr calls "normalising abusive behaviour"; essentially it's a bit nasty and I'm not a fan. So it'll be more of an enemies-friends-boyfriends situation, in a long-winded roundabout sort of way.
> 
> Rest of the characters arrive next chapter :)


	2. Chapter 2

Gerard Way walked with his family in silence onto Platform 9¾. Had he just been with his brother, he’d probably have started chatting, but the presence of their father, walking stonily between them, made him stay silent.  
His brother, Mikey, walked along, evidently annoyed. He kept glancing up at their father every so often, quite obviously disliking the fact that he was even here. Under normal circumstances, he _wouldn’t_ have been here – their father never really took much of a personal interest in their lives. But seeing as this was the last time Gee (or rather, Gerard – their father didn’t use nicknames) would ever use this train as a Hogwarts student, Mr Way had decided that he should be a “supportive parent” and see him off.  
Suddenly, their father stopped walking. Another family was moving past them. There were two children, the elder of whom was walking excitedly, evidently showing his family around. The parents looked around, almost dazedly, at the people walking around, carrying owls and cats and levitating trunks. The younger child, who couldn’t have been older than eleven, looked positively ecstatic.  
“Muggles,” spat their father disgustedly.  
Mikey muttered something under his breath. Gerard looked at him sharply – if there was one thing you didn’t do it was disagree with Mr Way. However, his father seemed to be too caught up in his own disgust to notice his son.  
“Look at them,” he muttered. “Coming in here like they own the place. They need to learn where they stand. That they’re below us.” He looked at Gerard, who nodded subserviently.  
Mikey stared. “You have got to be joking!”  
His father became very still, and Gerard’s breath held.  
“What do you mean, Michael?”  
“You! You with your “Muggles are beneath us” attitude! Some of my best friends are Muggle-born!”  
“Now, Michael.” Their father took on a warning tone. “We’ve talked about this before; while you might find them amusing or entertaining, you’ll come to realise that they are less than us, that they’re –”  
“No! No I won’t! Do you know why? Because they’re _not_! And we haven’t _talked_ about this, you’ve lectured me on how your bigotry is acceptable and the correct way of thinking! And I am fucking sick of it!”  
He turned to Gerard. “And _you_! He’s a complete prick but you’re worse! You don’t even believe what he says, you just go along with it cause you’re too scared to stand up for yourself!”  
He turned coldly back to his father, who was getting very red. “Don’t expect me back at home this Easter.”  
And with that, he grabbed his trunk and walked onto the train.  
Mr Way had gone very quiet and very still. He turned to Gerard and leaned in.  
“You keep a goddamn eye out for that boy. Do you understand me? He tries anything funny and you tell me _immediately_.”  
And without so much as a goodbye, he strode away towards the gate.  
Gerard inhaled shakily, then walked off to find Mikey.

As the train accelerated away from the station, Gerard made his way down the aisle, glancing through all the doors as he went. He passed students he recognised and students he didn’t. First years fidgeted in their seats with barely contained glee, the novelty of simply being on this train having not yet worn off. Fifth years scribbled furiously on bits of parchment, trying to finish their holiday assignments. He spotted some of his fellow seventh years, laughing with their friends but with an aura of solemnity, knowing they would only use this train once more in their lives.  
He found his brother towards the back of the train, sitting and chatting with another boy Gerard didn’t recognise. Gerard knocked on the door hesitantly. Mikey looked up, the smile sliding off his face as he realised who it was.  
Gerard smiled haltingly. “Hi Mikes. Hi, uh…” He looked at the other boy.  
“Frank.” The boy stuck his hand out, grinning widely. “Frank Iero. Sixth year. I’m a Slytherin, like Mikey.”  
Gerard shook his hand, Frank’s smile throwing him a little off-kilter. He wasn’t a particularly social person (he didn’t often talk to people he hadn’t already met) so to be introduced to someone so overly confident was slightly disconcerting. “I’m Gerard. Mikey’s brother. Umm…”  
He trailed off as Frank raised an eyebrow, blatantly looking him up and down. “Hi…Gerard.” Gerard thought, slightly dazedly, that it should have been illegal to say his name like that in polite conversation. He swallowed, searching for a topic of conversation. “So, uh, Iero. I can’t say I recognise the name.”  
Frank shrugged. “Yeah, probably. It’s Italian. Also my family is made entirely of Muggles, so it’s not really common in wizarding circles.” He chuckled slightly.  
Gerard froze. He stared at Frank, who seemed to notice his sudden change in demeanour and hesitated.  
Mikey made a noise of disbelief. “Are you _joking_?”  
Frank looked towards him, frowning. “What?”  
Mikey snorted derisively. “My brother over here. Has our father finally brainwashed you into actually believing all that bullshit you regurgitate to keep him happy?”  
“I –” Gerard stuttered.  
“What did you want, Gerard?”  
Gerard.  
Mikey never called him Gerard.  
He scowled. “I was going to come sit with you. You know, like we always do. But given present company,” he looked pointedly at Frank, who looked slightly taken aback, “I think I’ll find somewhere else.” He grabbed his trunk and stalked out, walking quickly down the train. 

He walked angrily, keeping up a fast pace until he realised that finding somewhere else to sit would be easier said than done. He walked slowly along, looking in at all the other students laughing and joking with each other.  
He always sat with Mikey on the train.  
He’d made it about halfway down when he spotted Patrick Stump waving from a compartment, looking up from his conversation with a boy he recognised as Patrick’s friend Andy Hurley. He opened the door and slid onto the seat opposite gratefully.  
He and Patrick were pretty good friends – they were both Ravenclaws, and like Gerard, the sixth-year wasn’t much of a people-person. They’d bonded over a shared interest in academics and avoiding other people when during Patrick’s first year. They would study together sometimes – they were both pretty good at the subjects they took (which in Patrick’s case was almost all the subjects Hogwarts offered), but Gerard occasionally helped the sixth-year with the practical side of subjects like Herbology, Magical Creatures and DADA, and nobody in their right mind would pass up on Patrick Stump’s help in Ancient Runes. The guy was a language genius. The Stumps were also quite a large part of the wizarding community, so Gerard’s father had never had a problem with him associating with Patrick.  
Gerard didn’t know much about Hurley, except for the fact that he was a Gryffindor and one of Patrick’s closest friends. He was pretty sure one of the boy’s parents was the one of the Aurors responsible for rounding up the Death Eaters who’d escaped the battle of Hogwarts. He’d never really been bothered to find out more about that, though.  
Gerard joined their conversation gratefully (they were talking about the new bookshop that had opened at Hogsmeade). They talked amicably for another half-hour, until someone knocked on the sliding door.  
Gerard looked up. It was Ray Toro, head boy and Gerard’s closest and (as much as Gerard would never admit it) only other real friend.  
Ray slid into the seat next to Gerard. “Hey, Patrick, Andy.” Ray never called people by their last name. “’Sup, Gee?”  
Gerard shrugged. “Not much.”  
Ray looked around. ‘Where’s Mikey?”  
Gerard looked down. Ray was too perceptive for his own good. “We kinda…had a bit of a fight.”  
Patrick immediately looked guilty. “Oh my god, I should have noticed! I mean, um, are you, like, um…” He trailed off, glancing at Ray, who was waiting for Gerard to say more.  
“Yeah, he, umm…” Gerard looked around nervously. “He started shouting at our father, and then he got angry at me for not standing up too, and I kind of had a go at him…”  
Ray gave Gerard a sympathetic look. “Sorry to hear. You okay?”  
Gerard smiled wanly. “Yeah. Just, need to figure some stuff out.”  
The Hufflepuff nodded, then smiled. “So. What’re we talking about?”  
They talked until they reached the station. 

Dallon was waiting at the top of the stairs in the Entrance Hall for the students who’d gone home for Christmas. Next to him stood Pete and his Hufflepuff friend, Joe Trohman, talking animatedly about something Dallon wasn’t particularly interested in.  
He spotted Urie walking into the hall with his friends. He turned away, scowling. His arm had healed already, but he swore there was some sort of permanent damage – he kept feeling a little twinge of pain now and again. Maybe it was just his hate for Urie making him imagine it. That was also possible.  
He jumped slightly when Pete tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Dall. Look. Trouble in asshole paradise, you think?”  
Dallon looked to where Pete was pointing, and he saw what he hadn’t noticed before. Smith and Walker were standing a little way back from Urie and Ross, both of whom looked disctinctly unhappy. Ross seemed to be talking angrily to Urie, who wore a sullen expression. He said something unhappily and Ross almost exploded. Dallon had always thought of him as being quite quiet; seeing him go off like this was pretty amusing, especially seeing as it was at Urie. Finally, Ross said something that seemed to shock Urie; the Gryffindor’s eyes widened, then he nodded grumpily and, to Dallon’s surprise, started walking up the stairs towards him.  
“’Sup Urie? Having a little tiff are we?” asked Pete, grinning.  
Urie glared at him. “What the hell did I ever do to you?”  
Pete shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe I just don’t like your face. It’s a pretty stupid face.”  
Joe snorted. Urie glared at Pete. “Wentz, I swear to god if you don’t stop turning all the other students against me –” He stopped and took a breath. “Just fuck off, okay.” He turned to Dallon and took a deep breath. “Okay, Weekes, just so you know, you’re a fucking asshole and I will hate you for all eternity.”  
Dallon frowned. “Thanks. You too.”  
“But,” Urie paused. He gave an agonised look to Ross, who raised his eyebrows and made a motion as if to say, _keep going_.  
“Okay, you’re a disgusting person and you deserve all the insults and stuff butI’msorryIbrokeyourarm.”  
“What?” Dallon asked, more out of shock than anything else.  
“I’m sorry for breaking your arm, okay? I…I don’t know what happened. I just got, really, really angry for some reason and…” He trailed off. “Yeah. I don’t know what happened. And I’m sorry.” He frowned. “You’re still a complete fucking dick.”  
Dallon, still too shocked to form any kind of response, just nodded.  
Urie started to smirk, regaining some of his regular persona. “Oh no, I think I’ve broken him. I didn’t realise I had quite this much of an effect on you, Weekes. You’re not one of those people who gets off on being insulted, are you?”  
Pete coughed. “Well, to be honest, Urie, the amount of time you spend stalking Dall here just to argue would suggest the same of you.”  
Urie scowled. “Fuck off, Wentz.”  
Pete shrugged. “Want some privacy, do you? Sorry, guys, but I don’t think McGonagall would approve of you two fucking in the middle of the Entrance Hall.”  
Urie stared at him. Then he glared. “Right, I came to apologise and I’ve apologised. Fuck all three of you.”  
“Yeah, you wish!” called Pete as Urie made his way back to Ross, who nodded approvingly and gave Urie a quick hug. Urie seemed to perk up a little at this.  
Dallon was still standing completely still. Pete turned to him and frowned, waving a hand over his face. “Urie hasn’t actually broken you, has he? Cause that would be embarrassing for everyone.”  
Dallon blinked. “What? No, of course not, shut up. I just –” He was interrupted when the doors to the Entrance Hall opened and a flood of students poured in.  
As they went off to search for their other friends, he couldn’t help but think that maybe miracles did exist. In the form of Ryan Ross, apparently. 

The Slytherin common room was almost completely empty, most of the students still eating in the Great Hall. Dallon, Mikey, Frank and Pete sat in the chairs by the fire, talking in low voices so they didn’t disturb the seventh years studying in the corner.  
“So,” Mikey was saying, “How’d you guys go with Christmas at school?”  
“Wait!” Frank interrupted quickly with a chuckle. “Let me guess. You,” he nodded at Dallon, “you spent your entire holidays chasing after that Urie kid. Seriously, dude, no offence, but I’ve never seen someone with a bigger obsession on anyone.”  
Dallon groaned and put his head in his hands. “Please stop,” he muttered.  
Frank chuckled. “No sweat, dude. He’s totally obsessed with you too.”  
Pete held up a hand. “Seriously, you guys will never guess what this _idiot_ managed to do. Mr Charms-Expert here managed to land himself a _month’s_ worth of detentions with none other than the dickbag himself.”  
Dallon repressed the urge to just lie face down on the floor and block out their laughter. “Guys, it’s not funny. He literally _broke my arm_.”  
“Yeah.” Pete looked puzzled. “I’ve never seen him lose his cool like that. Maybe he had something on his mind.”  
“Speaking of this…” Dallon frowned. “How come you didn’t do anything when he was going all psycho?”  
Pete gave him a look that said, _are you stupid_? “I was getting Longbottom, idiot. I can’t _petrificus totalus_ for shit.”  
“Oh. Right.” Dallon smiled. “Thanks for that, dude. Even though I guess you kinda did land me in detention.”  
Pete shrugged, then turned to Mikey and Frank. “So, how’d you guys go with Christmas?”  
Frank nodded, smiling. “It was pretty good. I met Mikey’s brother on the train. And now I’m kinda annoyed that Mikey didn’t tell me his brother was fucking adorable before this.”  
Mikey cringed. “Dude. That’s my brother. Anyway,” he scowled, “you saw him on the train. He’s finally become the brainwashed pureblood supremacist our father wants him to be.”  
Frank shrugged. “You said he didn’t really believe in all that, didn’t you? He was just going along with your dad. So I’ll just have to... _convince_ him that he’s wrong about Muggleborns.”  
“Dude.” Mikey flinched. “Brother, remember. Phrase it differently.”  
Frank gave a lewd smile. “What? I’m totally gonna seduce your brother. That’s exactly what I meant.”  
“DUDE. BROTHER. NO.”  
“So, what, you and your old man not so hot right now?” asked Pete.  
Mikey glowered. “I don’t even want to talk about that fucking dickhead right now.”  
Pete shrugged. “Fair enough. You gonna be staying here for Easter then?”  
“Definitely.”  
Pete nodded. “Well, my folks are still gonna be in Uruguay catching frigging Crumple-Horned Snorkacks or something, so I’ll be here too.”  
“Great.” Mikey seemed to cheer up slightly at this. Then he yawned. “Geez, what time is it?”  
Dallon peered over at the clock. “Quarter to twelve. Maybe we should get some sleep?”  
Frank shook his head fondly at Dallon. “Such a good kid. Maybe he’s right, though, Pete, we have double Transfig tomorrow morning.”  
Pete nodded and they started making their way over to the dormitories, Dallon leading. He was still a little dazed by Urie’s behaviour today. Maybe this was the first step on the path towards to reconciliation.  
Then again, he supposed it couldn’t last. They had to survive a whole month of detention with each other, and he’d be surprised if he was lucky enough to get through that with just a broken arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks to write the second chapter was definitely what I was going for. Definitely. ( I promise to be quicker next time)
> 
> So I have finished planning out this story, and I think it's gonna be a long one...  
> The main plot is quite slow towards the start but should pick up as the story progresses.  
> More Brallon next chapter :D
> 
> QUESTION: I have a friend who wants Peterick in this, a friend who wants Petekey and a friend who wants neither. Does anybody have an opinion on this? I'm completely open to all three.
> 
> EDIT: question has been resolved


	3. Chapter 3

Dallon was sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, eating breakfast and chatting idly, when something flew into the side of his head. He gave a yell and almost pitched face-first into his bowl of cereal.  
The others looked at him questioningly.  
“I’m fine…” he muttered, as he picked up the offending object from where it had fallen on the bench. In the palm of his hand rested a delicate paper crane, perfectly made. As he watched, it unfolded to reveal a note written in a neat script.  
_Mr Weekes_ , it read. _Be aware that you have a detention tonight in Greenhouse Five at six o’clock this evening. Please be punctual._  
Dallon groaned and pressed his forehead to the table.  
Frank sniggered. “Well, I guess we all know what that was.”  
Mikey grinned. “Well, if we find out he’s dead tomorrow morning, I call dibs on his broom.”  
Dallon looked incredulously at them. “Guys, he _broke my arm_.”  
Pete gave a mock sigh of exasperation. “You love going on about that, don’t you. Yeah, Mikes, you can have his broom, I want the notebook he keeps all his original spells in. I still reckon you could make millions out of it.”  
Dallon shrugged uncomfortably. “There really isn’t anything good, it’s all pretty useless.”  
Pete shook his head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, mate.”  
Dallon made a noncommittal noise.  
Suddenly, he noticed Mikey staring into the air behind him, face rapidly darkening. Dallon turned to see what he was looking at.  
A large, sinister-looking owl was swooping towards them, just ahead of the other owls. It landed on the back of Mikey’s chair and stood proudly there, eyeing Mikey.  
Mikey scowled, grabbed the note off the bird’s leg and threw it onto the table.  
“Dallon, please burn it.”  
Dallon shot a worried glance at the shorter boy, but flicked his wand at the envelope, causing it to disappear in a rush of flame, causing the sinister owl to squawk in indignation and fly off. Then, unable to resist the temptation, he pointed his wand at the fireball. The fire suddenly took the shape of an eagle, swooping over the heads of the first years sitting next to them and then dissipating.  
There was a ragged smattering of applause as the first years beamed at him, and Mikey smiled slightly.  
Pete nodded appreciatively. “New spell?”  
“Yeah, I finished working on it a couple of days ago.”  
Pete raised an eyebrow. “For useless spells they’re pretty damn cool.”  
“But seriously, dude.” Frank had turned back to Mikey, with a slightly worried expression. “What was that?”  
Mikey grimaced. “My father. Probably wondering whether I’ve ditched you two,” he nodded at Dallon and Frank, “for some purer-blooded friends.”  
Dallon frowned. “Why is your dad so fixed on this whole anti-Muggle thing? It’s not like it’s even remotely common.”  
Mikey turned to face him. “My father, not my dad.” Then he shook his head, took a deep breath and whispered in a low voice. “His father was a Death Eater. My father and his younger brother Alistair were teenagers leading up to the Potter’s death. He was actually the milder of the two, according to the portraits. Alistair was the crazy one. Left the house two days before You-Know-Who disappeared to join up with the Death Eaters. Nobody saw him again. Their father died a week later, killed by Alistor Moody himself.  
“My father hates Muggles, but he hates You-Know-Who more. Blames him for Alistair disappearing. Personally, I’m glad he disappeared. You know, before we came along. I’d…I’d hate to see what Gee would have been like with that kind of person around…”  
He seemed to suddenly become aware he’d spoken for quite a while, because he sat back and looked at the other three, almost hesitantly.  
“Shit, man…” whispered Pete, eyes wide.  
“You’re…”Mikey started. “You won’t tell anyone this, right.” A fervour suddenly appeared in his eyes. “Because I don’t want to be associated with them at all. Heck, I wish they’d never even existed. You know that, right?” He gave them an almost pleading look.  
“Mikey, calm down.” Dallon held up his hands. “We believe you, we know you hate them. We won’t tell anyone.”  
Mikey gave a wan smile. “Thanks, guys…”  
Frank clapped his hands together. “Well, we should be heading back to get things for our first class. Now Mikey, I think I heard you mention your brother…”  
As they walked off, Mikey reiterating emphatically that he did not want to hear any sentence that included the words “Gerard” and “sex” and Frank simply rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, Dallon smiled amusedly at his friends, Brendon Urie completely forgotten.

The school day was almost completely uneventful. There was a slight incident during Potions with the Hufflepuffs when Kenneth Harris accidentally spilled an entire bowl of porcupine quills into the cauldron he was sharing with Spencer Smith, causing the cauldron to go up in flames, but the situation was fixed almost immediately, and Smith was taken to the Hospital Wing with only a couple of minor burns. Thankfully, Urie kept to himself during Defence Against the Dark Arts.  
Dallon was in the Slytherin common room, writing a Potions essay (funnily enough on the practical uses of porcupine quills and the differences between those of New World and Old World porcupines) when Mikey tapped him on the shoulder.  
“Hey, dude, I can see you’re loving this essay and everything, but it’s six o’clock.”  
“What?” Dallon looked at the clock and swore, dropping the parchment on top of his books and grabbing his jacket.  
“Good luck, man,” called Mikey as he rushed out of the room. 

Dallon raced down the path to the greenhouses, as the last of the daylight disappeared. He reached Greenhouse Five and rushed in.  
Urie was already standing there with Professor Longbottom, who chuckled slightly at his unceremonious entrance.  
“Ah, Mr Weekes, you’ve finally decided to join us.”  
Urie smirked. As Longbottom turned to pick up a couple of buckets, Dallon sneered at him, then restored his neutral expression when Longbottom turned back.  
“Today, boys, you’ll be helping me do some basic Venomous Tentacula pruning – you need to remove any dead or damaged parts from the plant. You’re both aware that the plants are very valuable, but I am confident that you’ll be able to avoid causing any unnecessary damage. However, your own safety is more important than that of the plant. Once you’ve finished I’d like you to sort the clippings into what’s usable and what’s not. I’ll be on the far side of the greenhouse, so if you do need any help just yell.”  
He walked off, leaving Dallon feeling slightly underprepared.  
Urie looked at him. “So,” he said. “Did you get your head checked like I suggested?”  
Dallon rolled his eyes. “Well done, Urie. Beautifully played. I could never have come up with such a cutting insult. Maybe I should just give up now and accept you as the supreme overlord of the universe.”  
Urie smiled mockingly. “Maybe you should. It’d be about time you accepted that I’m your superior in every way.”  
“Yeah, you wish, Urie.”  
“Ooh.” Urie’s eyes widened. “What a comeback. I might have to give over my title of supreme overlord of cutting remarks. Where’d you learn to talk back like that?”  
Dallon shrugged, unable to think of a reply. As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t very good at insulting people. He generally focused more on cursing Urie’s belongings and letting Pete do the talking.  
“And he has nothing to say.” Urie gave a sardonic laugh.  
“Unlike you yesterday. Apologising like that, Ross must have been seriously pissed. What’s going on between you, anyway? He finally had enough of you?”  
Urie’s cool demeanour fell away again, and Dallon was immediately reminded of their fight during the holidays. Before Urie could reply, he hurriedly held his hands up in a gesture of peace.  
“Never mind, never mind. That was me being stupid.”  
Urie looked at him with a guarded expression. He looked almost suspicious, as if he expected Dallon to make another even more personal remark.  
“…Good.”  
They fell into silence, then Dallon gestured awkwardly at the door leading further into the greenhouse. “We should probably…”  
“Yeah.”  
They picked up their buckets and made their way into the inner part of the greenhouse, neither speaking, and stopped at the table on which the innocent-looking leafy plants sat in their pots. Dallon glanced at Urie, who didn’t stop, continuing towards the plant, which shuddered slightly at his approach. He put the bucket down next to the plant and pointed his wand at a limp-looking branch and uttered, “ _Diffindo_.” He dodged effortlessly out of the way as two long tentacles shot out towards him, and stepped back out of the plant’s reach, Summoning the stalk and throwing it into the bucket.  
Urie shot a glance at Dallon, frowning. “Are you just going to stand there being useless or are you gonna help?”  
Dallon blinked. “Oh right, yeah.” He walked over to another plant and looked over it for any damaged parts. He spotted a shrivelled tentacle on the other side of the plant and pointed his wand at it wordlessly, causing it to sever from the plant.  
They continued like this in silence, an occasional barked expletive from one of them when a tentacle managed to snag on their clothing. After about twenty minutes, Dallon had finished with all the plants on his side. He stepped back and looked over to where Urie was trying to cut a rather thick tendril. He’d gotten about halfway through it, and now the plant was thrashing about angrily.  
Suddenly a tentacle snaked out and grabbed Urie’s ankle, tripping him up. As he struggled to his feet, another tentacle shot towards his neck.  
Dallon, almost instinctively, flung out his wand and yelled, “ _Diffindo_!”, severing the tentacle and causing the plant to recoil just long enough for Urie to get to his feet and rush away from it, breathing heavily.  
As he tried to catch his breath, Urie looked at Dallon. “…Thanks, I guess.”  
Dallon shrugged awkwardly. “No problem.”  
“You’re still a douchebag. Just not, y’know, an evil douchebag.”  
Dallon gave a dry chuckle. “Thanks for the clarification.” He looked around. “So, is this us finished?”  
Urie chuckled. “Honey, we never even started. Maybe in your dreams.”  
Dallon made a disgusted face. “You wish. I’m serious.”  
The shorter boy frowned. “Would there be more further on?”  
“Longbottom didn’t say…maybe.”  
Urie sighed. “Whatever. I’m gonna keep going.”  
They wandered further into the greenhouse. They passed through a room whose walls were lined with shelves of juvenile mandrakes and other common plants. A couple Dallon didn’t recognise, including a large spiky red plant which spat a foul-smelling ooze all over his shirt as he passed, causing Urie to stop for a second, overcome by a fit of raucous laughter.  
Finally, they reached the door which led to the last room in the greenhouse. It hung slightly ajar, and Urie didn’t hesitate before pushing it open.  
The room was very small and very empty, except for a large flowerpot that stood at the side of the room, next to an open trapdoor. Beneath the trapdoor, a flight of wooden stairs led down into a dark passageway.  
Dallon frowned. “I didn’t realise there were rooms underneath the greenhouses.”  
Urie raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realise you knew everything about the school.”  
“Well I didn’t realise – fuck it, I don’t care. Maybe Longbottom left it open for us. It’s not like anyone else would be out here at this time.”  
Urie shrugged. “I guess that means we’re going in.”  
They descended into the darkness.  
Dallon shivered slightly, muttering a quiet “ _Lumos_.” His wand started to give off a faint glow, although not really bright enough to see more than a few feet ahead – whatever lived down here evidently liked the dark, and he didn’t want to end up killing some incredibly rare species of plant and having to somehow pay for it.  
Urie quickened his pace, evidently impatient. “Come on, I actually want to get back in time to sleep tonight.” He walked out of Dallon’s vision.  
Suddenly Dallon’s hand, which had been trailing along the passage wall, was touching nothing but air. The corridor had evidently opened out into a room.  
Dallon frowned. “How the fuck are we supposed to see in this?”  
There was no reply.  
“Urie? Urie, stop messing around.” The room stayed silent. “Urie, I swear to –”  
“ _Boo_!”  
To his eternal shame, Dallon screamed. “Fucking shit, you fucking asshole, fucking…” He looked around for Urie, who was still out of his range of vision. “Urie, are you literally five years old? Get over here so we can figure out what we’re supposed to do!”  
“Naww, Weekes is scared of the dark, what a –” He stopped abruptly.  
“Urie, what are you doing now?” When no reply came, he gave a sigh of exasperation. “Fuck it.” He flicked his wand and a bright ball of light soared from its tip to hover by the ceiling.  
And then he froze.  
Urie was curled up in the foetal position, rocking backwards and forwards, face scrunched up in what could only be pain. And behind him, currently immobile, was the most massive Venomous Tentacula Dallon had ever seen. It was at least as big as a tree, and the eyeless face set at its centre (usually the size of a softball) was at least three feet in diameter. The bite from any Venomous Tentacula could be fatal, but in the case of this one Dallon would be more worried about losing an entire limb.  
_Would be_. Except it was right there, right now, and Brendon Urie was lying incapacitated on the ground in front of it, and _oh god it just moved_.  
Urie let out a bloodcurdling moan, and Dallon flinched as the plant shuddered. He paused for a second, then, giving an inward sigh of frustration, rushed over and bent down next to Urie, trying to keep the sound from his shoes on the wooden floor as quiet as possible.  
“Urie,” he hissed. “Urie, what happened?”  
The response was an agonised cry of pain.  
“Fuck!” Dallon hooked his elbows under Urie’s arms and started to move as quickly as he could towards the door. He wasn’t making much progress.  
“Hell, Urie, why can’t you eat a bit less?”  
Urie groaned again, and then, bizarrely, the groan turned into a laugh. It started off as a quiet chuckle, and progressed into a hysterical cackle. It was more than slightly disturbing but at the moment Dallon was more worried about the fact that it was loud.  
“Damnit Urie, shut up!” he hissed, to no avail. He looked up and yes, the plant had definitely noticed them. It was quivering, and if it was possible for plants to feel emotion, this one was definitely furious.  
Suddenly, and with a sense of what felt to Dallon like inevitability, he felt something wrap around his leg, and in less than a second he found himself dangling upside down, Urie’s manic laughter continuing in the background.  
“Shit…shit…” Dallon looked around for his wand, only to see it lying next to Urie. “ _Shit_.”  
The tentacle was drawing him close to the giant face set in the centre of the plant. Dallon tried to stretch up and grab hold of the tentacle holding his ankles, but it wasn’t budging. He dropped back down, fingers scrabbling at the wooden floor, trying to gain some sort of hold, but it offered no purchase.  
He scrunched his eyes shut, trying desperately to remember whether the Venomous Tentacula ate people, when suddenly a clear voice rang out across the room.  
“ _Diffindo_!”  
Dallon fell to the ground and looked up. Urie stood by the door, no hint of his previous state to be seen, with his wand pointed at the plant and another in his other hand. Quickly, Dallon scrambled to his feet and rushed to the door. They sprinted up the stairs and didn’t stop running until they’d reached the trapdoor room.  
“Holy shit.” Dallon was breathing heavily. “I don’t care what Longbottom says, I’m not going to prune that fucking monster.”  
“You’re telling me." Urie handed Dallon's wand back. "How about we just don’t mention it.”  
“Sounds like a plan.” Dallon swallowed. “So, uh. Thanks for, y’know, back there.”  
“What, for saving you? Who’d have known you could be such a damsel in distress?” At Dallon’s outraged look, he held up a hand. “I broke your arm. I saved you from a giant plant with teeth. Now we’re even.”  
Dallon nodded, chuckling. Then he remembered why he’d even been in the position in the first place. “Seriously though, what happened with you?”  
Urie looked confused. “What do you mean?”  
“The whole rolling on the floor screaming in pain thing.”  
A large number of expression’s crossed Urie’s face at once, then he regained his composure. “It was nothing.”  
Dallon frowned. “That wasn’t nothing, mate, you nearly got me killed.”  
Urie glared. “I said it’s nothing, so it’s nothing, okay? And I’m not your _mate_ , Jesus Christ.” He stalked off, leaving Dallon feeling slightly overwhelmed.  
He stood there for a moment, then walked off to get his bucket and sort all the clippings out. He had a strong feeling there was _something_ going on here, but standing here wasn’t going to help him figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay it has recently crossed my mind that starting this so close to exams was a very bad idea - they start next week  
> However, I have about a week after I've done all my exams where I don't have to do anything, so I'm going to be aiming for at least two more chapters by the Friday after next.
> 
> Something is definitely going on... I wonder what... Do you guys have any theories? (hint: comments of any sort, including critical ones, are brilliant :D )  
> Speaking of comments, thank you so much to the people who have posted comments, I was smiling for like a whole day when I saw them :)
> 
> On a final note, most of you said you want Peterick for this story, so Peterick you shall have - it was already kind of incorporated into the plot anyway, but I wanted to see your opinions.  
> However, I do have a draft for part of another story which has Petekey and I probably will try get that one up after this one.  
> I'll be back in two weeks with at least two chapters
> 
> EDIT 04/06/2015 (as in dd/mm/yyyy):  
> so ahahaha i'm a bit late but i ended up with a 10,000 word chapter so i'm just splitting them up and should have one up very soon.


	4. Chapter 4

An outside observer would have a hard time figuring out the cause of the constant antagonism between Dallon Weekes and Brendon Urie. The original reason had passed out of human memory, and the reason for its continuation was evidently something known only to the two involved.  
This observer would be puzzled as to why Urie continued to risk his position as the school’s golden boy by participating in this apparently meaningless feud. He did moderately well in all his subjects, he was one of the best flyers in the school, it was all but accepted that he would be picked for Head Boy, and his natural charisma meant he was liked by almost everyone – with the exception of Weekes, who was apparently immune to Urie’s charm.  
They might also have made the observation that, for someone who seemed so uninterested in the social goings-on within the school, Weekes seemed incredibly persistent when it came to this single personal vendetta. He was one of the school’s most accomplished charm casters, yet his habit of denying this meant that few knew. Despite his abnormal height, he was one of those people who seemed to blend into the background; he disliked drawing attention to himself. However, this seemed not to apply when Brendon Urie was involved, as almost everyone knew of them because of their fighting.  
A more perceptive observer might have noticed that they were not the only person who seemed keenly interested in these boys and the current events at Hogwarts. They might have noticed strange yet subtle things happening around the school.  
They might have noticed that someone at the school was not meant to be there. 

Dallon sat slumped in his chair, listening idly to Mikey muttering angrily at the quill in front of him, as the teacher walked in and around the students. Professor Flitwick had come down with a nasty case of the flu, so they had called in a relief Charms teacher with an unfortunate but blatant bias against all the Slytherin students. It didn’t help that the Slytherin fifth-years took Charms with the Gryffindors.  
He sighed and brought out the piece of parchment in his pocket again. This afternoon he had his second detention, down by the Forbidden Forest this time. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face another entire evening with Urie. Then again, it wasn’t as if he really had a choice.  
Mikey had started looking as if he wanted to set his quill on fire. Dallon sighed and scooted his chair closer to the shorter boy. “Do you want some help?”  
“I can’t get it to fucking work!” Mikey hissed.  
Dallon inspected the piece of parchment next to him patiently. They were supposed to be charming a quill to write a message that they dictated. So far Mikey’s parchment had a couple of scribbles in the corner.  
“Well, you know, at least you got it to move.”  
Mikey exhaled impatiently. ‘No, that was me making sure the quill wasn’t, I dunno, clogged or something.”  
“Ah.” Dallon looked awkwardly at him for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Well, you see, the trick is concentration.”  
“Yes, Professor Turner explained that already. But that’s not exactly fucking helpful, is it?”  
“Okay. You have to be concentrating when you say the incantation, but you have to keep your concentration while you’re dictating, okay? So even while you’re speaking, you’ve got to be focusing on keeping the quill going in your head, yeah?”  
Mikey nodded hesitantly. “Alright…” Dubiously, he pointed his wand at the quill. “ _Scrivo_.” The quill jerked up, fell over, then righted itself on the parchment.  
“Alright, good. Now concentrate while you dictate. Imagine the pen writing. Try saying it slowly.”  
Mikey frowned in concentration. “My…name…is…Michael…James…Way…” He let out a laugh of astonishment as the quill scribbled out the sentence on the parchment, and it immediately dropped to the table again.  
“Oh my god, thanks dude. You’re a life saver.”  
Dallon shrugged. “No probs.”  
“Hey, look. Urie and Walker are being inspected. Do you reckon he’ll give them house points just for being in Gryffindor?”  
Dallon snorted. “It’s more likely than him giving any points to us for anything.”  
Turner was looking over as Walker attempted (and failed) to perform the spell. The teacher looked patronisingly at him. “You’ll get it eventually. Just keep practising.”  
Walker made a face that said _fuck you too_ as the teacher turned around to face Urie. “Mr…Urie, is it? Could you show me your progress?”  
Urie nodded, then turned to stare at the quill, a look of concentration on his face. He pointed his wand at the quill and said clearly, “ _Scrivo_.” The quill bounced up without quivering like Mikey’s had. “My name is Brendon Urie and this is my attempt at the Dictation Charm,” he intoned, pronouncing every word carefully. The quill replicated everything he said with precise, if slow, movements.  
The teacher looked thrilled. “Very well done, Mr Urie. Thirty points to Gryffindor. You could all take note of this young man, the rest of you.”  
Mikey snorted loudly.  
Turner turned to him. “Is something funny, Mr…?”  
“Way.”  
“Way, _sir_.”  
Mikey nodded innocently. “That’s right.”  
Turner fumed. “Ten points from Slytherin for attitude! And fifteen more for shoddy work!”  
Dallon let out a noise of indignation. “That’s not fair, sir! His is much better than Walker’s, and you didn’t take points from him!”  
Turner looked at him. “Well it looks like _you_ haven’t done _anything_ , so twenty points from Slytherin. Just because Mr Urie can perform the spell and you can’t, doesn’t mean you two should mock him –”  
Dallon frowned. “I can do the spell.”  
Turner smiled nastily and raised an eyebrow as if to say, _I doubt it_. “Really. Then why don’t you demonstrate?”  
Dallon shrugged, annoyed. He pointed his wand at the quill and, without a single word from his mouth, it started to write. Once it had finished, it lay down neatly beside the inkpot.  
Turner looked astonished. “How did you…” he muttered faintly. Then he noticed what was written on the page. He picked up the paper and furiously scanned it. Then he slammed it down onto the table and looked up in outrage at Dallon.  
“Let’s have a look.” Before Turner could react, Walker had summoned the parchment from the desk and was reading it aloud.  
“Ahem. Professor Turner is a biased asshole who lets his irrational and insulting dislike of Slytherin students get in the way of his teaching. He also has a massive hard-on for Brendon Urie which is both illegal and displays his questionable taste.”  
As Turner snatched the parchment back, Urie, who looked like he was on the verge of laughter, shot Dallon a half-hearted scowl that he couldn’t sustain, and ended up just grinning at him. Dallon couldn’t help himself from grinning back.  
Suddenly, he felt himself being dragged out of his seat by the collar. His hand instinctively went up to his throat as the teacher let go of the back of his shirt and grabbed his upper arm. There was a spattering of gasps around the room, quickly silenced by the teacher’s furious glare.  
“The rest of you, continue to practise the spell. Way, fifty points from Slytherin. And _you_ ,” he spat, “are coming with me.”  
He pulled Dallon out of the classroom and started down the corridor. As Dallon exited the room, he spotted Mikey, whose expression had turned to one of alarm. 

Dallon followed behind the fuming teacher as he navigated the halls. At first, Dallon assumed they were going to Professor McGonagall’s office. But then suddenly, Turner stopped. He turned to Dallon, eyes going slightly wide, then looked around. He opened the door to an empty classroom.  
“In here, now.”  
Dallon walked in warily. He perched on a desk, watching as Turner closed the door behind them.  
Turner had a strange expression on his face that Dallon couldn’t decipher. He walked over to sit on the desk next to Dallon.  
“Your friend from Charms. Who was he?”  
Dallon frowned slightly. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on. “You mean Mikey?”  
“The one sitting next to you.”  
“Yeah, Mikey Way.”  
“Way…” Turner nodded, almost to himself. “Mr Weekes, has Mr Way ever talked about his family to you?”  
“Only about his father and brother,” Dallon lied.  
“His father and brother? And what exactly has he told you about them?”  
Dallon blinked. “I think if you want to know about Mikey’s family you should talk to him yourself.”  
Turner glowered. “Answer the question,” he spat.  
Not wanting to cause any more trouble, Dallon answered quickly. “He, uh, he doesn’t really like his dad. His brother’s a Ravenclaw seventh-year.”  
“Do you know his father’s name?”  
Now _that_ was a weird question. “I don’t know.”  
“Not Arthur, was it?”  
“Maybe?  
A strange light appeared in Turner’s eyes. “You _must_ know something. He’s never mentioned an uncle, has he? Maybe one he hardly ever sees? Does he ever talk about a grandfather?”  
“I…I genuinely don’t know...”  
“You can’t not know! Somebody has to know!”  
Dallon backed away. “I don’t, I’m sorry –”  
Turner snarled and grabbed the front of Dallon’s shirt. “If I find out you’re fucking lying to me, you–”  
Dallon wrenched himself back, knocking his hip against the desk and tripping up. As he tried to get up again, Turner drew his wand. He flicked it towards the desk in front of Dallon, which went flying towards the wall, and pointed it at Dallon’s face. “I’ll _make_ you fucking tell me!”  
As he started forming the incantation, the door opened.  
Ray Toro stood in the doorway, holding his schoolbooks, a curious frown on his face. “Is everything okay, I heard shouting…?”  
Turner’s demeanour suddenly changed completely. He looked like a rabbit who’d just come face-to-face with a rabid dog. His wand was still pointed at Dallon’s head.  
As the head boy took in the scene in front of him, his expression changed to one of alarm. “What’s going on?” He looked down the corridor and gestured someone out of sight frantically. He looked back. “Dallon, come over here.”  
Wordlessly, Dallon scrambled up and hurried over to the door as Professor Longbottom appeared next to Toro.  
“Toro?”  
“Professor, I heard shouting from the classroom and I opened the door and Dallon was on the floor and Professor Turner was pointing his wand at him!”  
Longbottom looked alarmed. “Turner? Explain yourself!”  
“I – I…” Turner looked down, almost abashed. “I lost my temper.” He turned to Dallon. “I’m sorry, Weekes.”  
Dallon didn’t reply. He felt almost sick. He was trying to focus on not hyperventilating.  
“Turner, you’re going to have to come with me to see Professor McGonagall. Give me your wand."  
The relief teacher handed over the asked-after article without objection.  
"Toro, could you take Mr Weekes to the hospital wing please?”  
Dallon shook his head slightly. “I’m fine…” he muttered under his breath. Nobody heard him.  
Toro nodded, and led Dallon away from the classroom.  
He shook his head. “Are you okay, dude?”  
Dallon nodded, shakily. “Yeah, I…I think so.” He’d calmed himself down a bit by now. “Listen, I, uh, I don’t need to go to the hospital wing. I’m fine. I might just go back to the classroom…”  
Toro frowned, then nodded. “Your call, man.”  
They walked for a while, then Toro started talking again.  
“I thought there was something off about that guy, the moment I saw him. He just looked dodgy, don’t you reckon? What did he want?”  
“He, uh, he wanted to know about Mikey. Um, Mikey Way, you might know him.”  
“Yeah, I know him, his brother’s my best friend. What did Turner want to know?”  
Dallon shrugged. “Weird stuff, about his family.”  
“His family?” Toro shook his head. “So either the guy’s crazy or he’s a stalker. You should probably tell Mikey about this. I’ll let Gee know.”  
Dallon nodded. “Yeah, I’ll…I’ll do that.”  
They reached the classroom and Toro stopped. “So, you sure you’re okay? You need anything at all?”  
Dallon shook his head. “No, I’m fine, I think.”  
“Sure, man. Remember to tell Mikey about this.”  
Dallon nodded and walked back into the classroom.  
The class went silent as he walked back in.  
Mikey walked over, looking anxious and confused. “You okay, dude? Where’s Turner?”  
Dallon chuckled hollowly. “Not here, thank god.”  
Mikey frowned. “What do you mean?”  
“Well, it turns out the guy was a legitimate creep. Brought me into an empty classroom and started throwing desks around.”  
As shaken as he felt, Dallon felt a little better when he heard people around the room gasp. He glanced surreptitiously at Urie to see the shorter boy looking shocked, which also made him feel slightly better – for once Urie was the surprised one.  
“Man, I’m sorry.” Walker shook his head. “I probably made it worse.”  
As Dallon waved off the boy’s protests, he realised that, maybe, Walker wasn’t actually that bad. He’d always just assumed the boy was an idiot because he associated with Urie.  
As he collected his things, he was struck by the second thought that maybe, just maybe, Urie himself wasn’t so bad either.  
He shook his head. Like Urie was ever going to be anything but a douchebag. 

Dallon swore as a sharp pain ran through his leg. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, he pulled the small sharp-toothed creature that had bit into his ankle away and threw it into the water. This evening they were helping the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor set up the practice course for the fourth-years tomorrow. He looked over to where Urie was standing, on dry land, testing the Dementor apparitions, and sighed, again question why he was the one knee-deep in muddy water expanding the large pond for the Kappas, which for some reason had already been released.  
He watched as Urie walked around the low wooden platform a few times, then stepped onto it, wand raised. At once, the scarecrow which stood some distance away became a large, hooded figure, cloaked in black, which started to glide sinisterly towards the platform. Urie raised his wand, but before he could perform the spell, the Dementor shuddered and fell to the floor, a scarecrow once again.  
Dallon shook his head, then suddenly felt another sharp pain shoot through his other leg. As he reached down to pull the Japanese water demon off, he lost his balance, toppling over into the murky water.  
“Motherfucking shit fuck!”  
Urie looked over at the sound of his voice and started laughing uproariously. Dallon scowled and shook his head, climbing out and throwing his shovel down.  
“Nope, I’m done! I’m done!”  
Urie chuckled. “I think you missed a bit.”  
“Oh ha ha.” Dallon waved his wand vaguely at himself, drying off his waterlogged clothes. “At least I’ve actually done something. What’ve you actually achieved?”  
Urie frowned at that. “There’s something wrong with the spell.”  
Dallon nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. Maybe, uh, maybe I should have a look at it?”  
Urie raised an eyebrow. “What, ‘cause you’ll be able to fix it when I couldn’t even figure out what was wrong?”  
Dallon shook his head, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “No, I don’t mean…” He stopped. “Maybe a new perspective will help.”  
Urie shrugged. “Fine.”  
Dallon walked over to the platform and pointed his wand at it, muttering, “ _Incantamentum revelio_.” A string of images and words spilled from his wand as a smoke-like substance. He frowned, the mistake instantly apparent.  
“Well that’s really messy…” he muttered. “Fuck it, I’m starting from scratch.”  
He looked at the scarecrow and shook his head, levitating it off to one side. “Don’t need it…”  
He worked for a few minutes, building up a network of enchantments, before stepping back. “Try it now.”  
Urie frowned. “That’s bullshit, there’s no way you could have done the entire thing from scratch.”  
Dallon scowled. “Whatever. I’ll do it.” He stepped up onto the platform.  
Immediately, he felt a chill run through him. Where the scarecrow had stood before, the Dementor had appeared out of nowhere. It glided towards him, one pale mottled hand outstretched. Dallon shivered, then forced himself to raise his wand.  
_Happy memory_. He really should have prepared before he stepped up.  
He glanced down at Urie, and suddenly a memory came to him of his third year, during the tryouts for the Slytherin Quidditch team. The Slytherins and Gryffindors – i.e. Urie – had been trying out at the same time, and during his trial he’d found his hands suddenly completely stuck to his broom. While trying to get unstuck, he’d accidentally done a sort of barrel roll and kicked the Quaffle away from the goals. He’d ended up getting the keeper position and had later seen Urie storming off, giving him furious looks. It’d been brilliant.  
Yeah. That worked.  
He pointed his wand at the spectre. “ _Expecto Patronum_!”  
A silvery rabbit shot out of his wand and ran straight through the fake Dementor, causing it to dissipate into the air.  
Dallon stepped off the platform, satisfied. He turned to see Urie looking at him in shock.  
“You…you actually _did_ fix it.”  
“Well, yeah…” Dallon nodded awkwardly. “I wouldn’t have said I did if I didn’t think it would work.”  
“But…how did you know how to do all the spells you needed?”  
“Oh, I, uh, didn’t. Well, not until I started working on it. I mean, they weren’t actually real spells, I just sort of modified a few existing ones and put them together. Like, the one to create the image of the Dementor, when someone stands on the platform, which is just your basic Illusion Charm, then a spell to create fear in people within a certain radius of the image, which is a combination of the Aura Charm and a Terror Hex, and then to make the cold, which is a sort of spread-out weakened modification of the Freezing Charm, and –”  
“You really are a fucking genius,” Urie said, in an almost awed tone. “I mean, people said you were, but I didn’t believe them.”  
Dallon shook his head uncomfortably. “I’m really not…”  
Urie suddenly seemed to realise what he’d said, and to whom. He gave a malicious, slightly forced-sounding laugh. “Probably the only thing you’re good for.”  
Dallon shrugged, the entire argument situation suddenly just seeming tiresome. “Let’s just get back to the school.”  
Urie blinked, then nodded.  
As they walked up the pathway, Urie seemed to hesitate slightly. He turned to Dallon, who rolled his eyes and stopped walking.  
“Yes?”  
“You…are actually okay, right? From today, I mean.”  
Dallon blinked. That was unexpected. “Umm, yeah, I’m fine.”  
“Good.” Urie nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, good.”  
“Okay.”  
“Yeah…” He laughed, still sounding forced but friendly this time, clearly attempting to lighten the mood. “He was actually a bit of a creep, to be honest.”  
Dallon nodded, still unsure of the situation. Was Urie being friendly? Did he even realise he was?  
He decided to take advantage of Urie’s geniality and see if he could get some information about him.  
“So, what’s the deal with you and Ross, anyway?”  
Urie stared at him, his expression darkening. “What deal? There’s no deal!”  
Dallon shook his head. “Not like a bad deal. I meant, you guys seem like really good friends.”  
Urie looked at him incredulously, questioningly. Then, to Dallon’s surprise, he laughed. “Oh, yeah. I’d hope so. He’s my boyfriend.”  
“Oh.” Dallon blinked. Oh. “So does that mean you’re, uh…”  
“I’m bi, yeah, and if that’s a problem then you’re more of a dick than I thought.”  
Dallon shook his head. “No, no, not a problem. I mean, uh, I am too. As well. I just…I hadn’t thought about it.”  
Urie shook his head, mock sadly. “And there I was thinking there were no douchebags in the LGBT community.”  
Dallon chuckled. “You forgot about Perez Hilton.”  
Urie frowned. “Who’s that?”  
“Never mind. Muggle celebrity.”  
There was silence for a moment.  
“So, you and Ross. Probably should have guessed.”  
“Nah, we haven’t told many people.”  
“Right.” They had reached the castle. “I should probably go tell Professor Greene what I did with the Dementor, so, uh…” Dallon still wasn’t sure where he stood at the moment. “See ya, I guess?”  
Urie seemed about to reply when he stopped, and frowned. Then he gave a look of exaggerated disgust. “I hope not.” He walked off, leaving Dallon feeling more confused than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I really stuck to my schedule, didn't I.  
> The reason this chapter took so long is a) I was in a sort of inspirational drought after exams, and b) the original draft of the chapter was 10,000 words long. I've split it up and will be posting the rest as the next chapter. It's already nearly finished, so I won't make any promises (because we can see how those seem to turn out) but it should be up soonish. 
> 
> Next chapter we get the beginning of Peterick :) (as well as a continuation of the Frerard stuff)
> 
> So the plot has started to thicken! What is going on at Hogwarts? I'm genuinely interested in finding out what people think is happening. (and if you have any criticisms, they are as always welcome :D )


	5. Chapter 5

The most notable thing about Pete Wentz was his knack of always being exactly where any sort of excitement was taking place. This was not always entirely accidental, of course. He just liked being a part of interesting events.  
Which was why, that afternoon, he found himself walking alongside Frank Iero towards the Ravenclaw common room, accompanying him on his quest for Gerard Way’s heart, or whatever his final objective was.  
They reached the tower and stopped outside the door.  
Frank took a deep breath. “This may go badly…”  
He strode up and knocked on the door.  
The eagle knocker opened its beak and a soft voice echoed from it:  


“ _This thing all things devours:_  
_Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;_  
_Gnaws iron, bites steel;_  
_Grinds hard stones to meal,_  
_Slays kings, ruins town,_  
_And beats high mountain down._ ”

  
Frank stared incredulously at it. “You’re joking, right?”  
Pete looked at him. “You know the answer?”  
The other boy scoffed. “The answer is time. And,” he addressed the knocker, “you need to brush up on your Muggle literature.”  
“Indeed.” The knocker sounded almost resentful as the door swung open.  
“Muggle literature?”  
“The Hobbit.” When Pete continued to look blankly at him, he shook his head exasperatedly. “Never mind.”  
They walked in.  
A familiar-looking boy was sitting in an armchair, reading. He looked up as they entered. “Yo. What’re you looking for?”  
Frank smiled. “I’m looking for Gerard Way, do you know where he is?”  
The boy nodded. “Yeah, he’s through there, by the fire.” He went back to his book as Frank wandered through into the next room.  
“Wait…” Pete suddenly realised who the boy was. “You’re Urie’s friend, aren’t you? Ryan Ross.”  
The boy nodded, frowning. “That’s right, you’re the one who’s always hanging around with Weekes.”  
“Yeah.” Pete chuckled slightly at the resigned look on Ross’s face as he mentioned Dallon. “I know, it gets damn annoying sometimes.”  
Ross nodded again. “It does, yeah.”  
“Those two need to find a fucking room, Merlin’s balls. Dallon is so fricking obsessed.”  
He smiled, expecting Ross to see the humour. To his surprise, the younger boy looked at him in surprise for a moment, then seemed to come to some sort of realisation and scowled.  
“Actually, Wentz, they don’t need to find a fucking room, and you can tell _Dallon_ ,” he spat out the name, “to fuck off, because Brendon’s not available.”  
Pete held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, okay then. It was a joke.”  
“Well then you might have to find a different fucking sense of humour.” He sounded almost bitter. He shook his head, then went back to his book.  
Pete frowned, then shrugged off walked off to find Frank.  
Gerard was sitting by the fire in the other room, talking to a short bespectacled boy Pete only recognised slightly. As they approached, Gerard looked up, his face whitening as he recognised them.  
“Hey,” Frank said cheerfully.  
“…Hello.”  
“I, well, I realise I might have come across as a bit forward on the train, but you seem really cool and I was wondering if you wanted to, like, hang out some time?” He glanced at Gerard’s friend and seemed to notice him for the first time. “Oh, hey Patrick.”  
Gerard looked like he was casting around for a way out of the situation, and he seized this comment like a starving hawk who had spotted a rat.  
“You, uh, know him, Patrick?”  
The short boy nodded. “Yeah, we take Potions together.”  
“Potions? Oh yeah, how are you finding that? I remember it was a pretty big step up from the fifth year to the sixth –”  
“Hey, Patrick, is it?” Pete asked. The boy nodded, looking slightly startled.  
“Umm, yes, I’m Patrick.”  
“Well, Patrick, my friend would like to talk to Gerard here, and I don’t think that’s gonna happen if we’re here, so do you want to go sit somewhere else with me?”  
Patrick looked rather intimidated, but looked over at Gerard. The black-haired boy sighed, looking defeated, and nodded. “Go on, I’m fine.”  
Patrick nodded and looked at Pete uncertainly. Pete gestured to one of the nearby tables and they got up and walked over, Patrick shooting Gerard an anxious glance as they went.  
“So, you reckon we should eavesdrop?” asked Pete, grinning.  
The other boy shook his head. “I…I don’t think we should.”  
Pete shrugged. “Good idea. Way’s lucky to have such a good friend.”  
Patrick looked down, and Pete frowned. “Hey. You okay?”  
The other boy looked up again. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.”  
Pete nodded. “Good. Sorry I just dragged you over here, but I’m not just doing this for Frank. Way’s brother is one of my best friends, and they’re kind of arguing because of, well…”  
“Gee’s father, you mean?”  
“What? Oh, yeah, apparently he’s convinced Gerard to start spouting some random anti-muggle bullshit –”  
“He doesn’t believe it, you know,” Patrick said anxiously. “He doesn’t actually believe it, he’s just scared of his father. He doesn’t want word to get back to him that both his sons are rebelling against his beliefs, so he’s avoiding anything his father might disapprove of.”  
“Yeah, I thought so.” Pete sighed. “Still, he needs to learn how to stand up for himself. He and Mikey are actually really close, it’d be sad to see that go. And Frank seems to really like him, so the way I see it this whole enterprise is a win-win-win situation.”  
“Gerard hasn’t stopped talking about him,” Patrick admitted with a small smile. “It’s always “I can’t believe Mikey’s friends with someone like him”, “I mean, he’s not like, that weird, or like, unattractive or whatever, but” and then he’ll come up with some excuse. It’s brilliant.”  
Pete laughed at the impressions. “Yeah, Frank’s been annoying the shit out of Mikey, it’s great.”  
Patrick chuckled. They sat in silence for a while, then Pete attempted to break the silence.  
“So, what subjects are you doing this year?”  
Patrick looked away slightly. “Umm, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Creatures, History, Defence, Astronomy, Runes, Arithmancy –”  
“Whoa. So literally like everything.”  
Patrick shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “No…no, I’m not doing divination or Muggle Studies.”  
“You’re the next bloody Granger, you are!”  
By this time, the shorter boy was looking incredibly ill at ease. He looked down, bearing an expression which suggested he wanted to say something but couldn’t form the words.  
Pete looked concernedly at him. “Hey. I think it’s brilliant!”  
Patrick looked up, a small, doubtful frown on his face. “…Are you taking the mickey?”  
Pete shook his head. “No! No, I genuinely think it’s brilliant.”  
The shorter boy looked pensive for a second, then a small smile appeared on his face. It was genuine and endearing, and Pete got the feeling it wasn’t a smile that was seen very often. He spotted Frank getting up and felt suddenly put out.  
He smiled at Patrick. “Well, it looks like they’re done. Nice meeting you, Patrick. We should hang out some time, next Hogsmeade weekend or something. I mean, if you want to.”  
Patrick nodded. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” He paused for a second, gave a little self-conscious laugh, then asked, “What was your name again, sorry?”  
“What? Oh.” Patrick blinked. “Whoops, yeah, I’m, uh, Pete. Pete Wentz.”  
“Okay. Well, thanks, Pete. See you later.”  
“Yeah.” Pete smiled once more, then walked off to follow Frank.  
The other boy was walking rather quickly out of the common room, back down the corridor. As Pete got nearer, he tried and failed to decipher the expression on Frank’s face. He caught up with him and matched his pace.  
“So, how’d it go?”  
Frank looked down. “I…I don’t know. I really don’t know.”  
Pete frowned. “What happened?”  
Frank shook his head. “I…you know what, never mind. I might go back to the common room now. See you.”  
The pink-haired boy stared after him for a few moments, then shrugged. He’d figure it out later. He walked off to find Dallon and Mikey.

Dallon navigated his way through the corridors, heading towards the library. Behind him, Mikey and Pete were conversing animatedly about the upcoming Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, the last one before the finals.  
He was still thinking about yesterday’s detention. He couldn’t figure out what was going on with Urie. He probably should have guessed at the Gryffindor’s relationship with Ross… Come to think of it, why had Urie acted so defensive when he’d brought it up?  
His thoughts started to wander towards Urie’s weird behaviour during the holidays and with the Tentacula, and he shook his head. He had deliberately been avoiding the topic since the actual events, and he wasn’t going to stop now.  
“Uh, Dallon?” Pete’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Why have we stopped walking?”  
Dallon blinked; he hadn’t even realised. “Sorry, no reason.”  
As they walked on, a thought came to him. He walked up to Mikey and Pete. “Hey, did you guys know that Ross and Urie were dating?”  
Mikey shrugged. “Nope.”  
To his surprise, Pete nodded slowly. “I sort of guessed this morning. Some stuff Ross said. He got all defensive when I suggested you had a thing for Urie – it was a joke, Dall. How did you find out, though?”  
“Huh? Oh, Urie told me.”  
Pete looked incredulously at him. “He told you something about his life? Of his own volition? You’re a bloody liar, Weekes.”  
Dallon shook his head. “No, he actually did.”  
As they talked, they reached the Entrance Hall, and Dallon suddenly became aware of a commotion going on below them.  
In the centre of the hall stood McGonagall, Longbottom and Turner.  
“I am afraid, Turner,” McGonagall was saying, “that we do not tolerate violence towards students under _any_ circumstances. Unfortunately, the Ministry has decided it does not have the authority to become involved in this matter –”  
Longbottom muttered something under his breath.  
McGonagall turned to him. “Quite so, Neville.” She turned back to Turner. “However, no matter the Ministry’s say on the topic, I am afraid we will not be calling upon your teaching services again. I must also ask that you leave immediately and do not return to these grounds without permission from myself only. Longbottom will accompany you to get your things.”  
Turner started to protest but stopped as McGonagall’s expression turned stony. “Turner. Until now I have remained civil towards you, despite your consistent attempts to make things difficult for yourself. However, I will use force if necessary. Do not try my patience.”  
Turner‘s expression became furious, and he looked away. It was at this point he noticed Dallon. His eyes widened, and he rushed up the stairs. He looked almost pleadingly at Dallon.  
“Tell them, Weekes! You’re fine! I just got a little mad, that’s all!” He started shaking Dallon by the shoulders – Dallon found himself frozen.  
Pete grabbed the former teacher and shoved him away, drawing his wand. “Get the fuck off him, you fucking creep.”  
Longbottom had rushed after Turner, Disarming and Leg-Locking him. “Students, could you leave, please.”  
As they hurried away, Dallon heard Turner screaming after him.  
“You’ll pay for this, Weekes! You’ll regret you ever crossed me by the time I’ve finished with you! You and those fucking Ways! You’ll all pay…”  
At this part, Mikey looked questioningly at Dallon, but Pete ushered them on. 

They sat in a far corner of the library. Once they had settled, Pete went to find a book on advanced Potion-making, and Mikey turned immediately to Dallon.  
“What was that? Why did he say the Ways would pay?”  
“I…I forgot to tell you yesterday…”  
“Tell me _what_?”  
Dallon looked down. “Turner…started asking me these questions about you and your family. When I couldn’t tell him anything he got angry. That’s when he started throwing tables around. He seemed…really interested. I think he was looking for information about your uncle and grandfather. He sounded pretty desperate.”  
Mikey was staring at him.  
“Sorry I didn’t tell you.”  
Finally, Mikey shook his head “Whatever. It’s fine. At least I know now. Just, next time you find out I have a creepy stalker, don’t let your boyfriend distract you from telling me.”  
“My –” Dallon gave him an appalled look. “Can you stop?”  
Mikey smirked. “Never.”  
Pete returned with his book. “Are we talking about Dallon’s boyfriend?”  
As Dallon threw his hands up in despair, Mikey chuckled evilly. “Oh, sweet revenge.”  
In an attempt to change the subject, Dallon turned to Pete. “So, how did Frank’s quest to seduce Mikey’s brother go?” He shot Mikey a victorious smirk as the other fifth-year glared at him.  
Pete shrugged. “I don’t actually know. They were talking alone for ages, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it afterwards. I ended up just talking with one of the other Ravenclaws for a while. Patrick…something.” His expression became slightly guilty.  
Dallon nodded. “The prefect? Patrick Stump.” They’d used to play Gobstones together. “He’s pretty cool.”  
Pete chuckled. “Of course he’s a prefect. And yeah, he is cool.”  
They stayed in the library for a while, Pete researching, Mikey writing his Care of Magical Creatures essay and Dallon letting his mind wander as he enchanted the pieces of scrap paper to fold themselves into paper planes and fly around his head. He’d had a pretty overwhelming couple of days, even forgetting about Turner. Maybe the last few months of the year would be uneventful.

In a dark room, away from the hustle and bustle of the castle, a shadowed figure hung its head as another berated it in a hushed tone.  
“How could you not have foreseen this? Why didn’t you try to prevent it? We could have lost _everything_!”  
The guilty figure uttered a sullen apology.  
“Your job was to keep an eye out and you let this happen?”  
“They still don’t suspect anything! Our plan is still safe!”  
The furious figure, obviously the leader, shook its head and turned away in disgust. “Make sure it stays that way. Now go. Don’t let anyone see you leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it continues.  
> I actually managed to get this one done in a week! Hopefully this is the start of me adhering much more closely to some form of schedule.
> 
> Gratuitous Hobbit references because I am the biggest fucking lotr fan the world has ever seen. 
> 
> So, the Peterick has started! Yes, at some point you will find out how Frank and Gerard's conversation went. And yes, Pete does still have pink hair. I'm gonna do more with Metamorphmagus!Pete in the future. 
> 
> Who do you reckon the people at the end were? I'm interested in seeing where people think this is going. 
> 
> To anyone who was confused and/or annoyed about Ryan's attitude towards Pete, just remember that he's talking to someone who keeps picking childish fights with his boyfriend and also that Ryan is pretty protective in this also there may be some trouble brewing between ryan and beebo that we'll find out about in about three chapters what? i said nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

Dallon flew up to hover beside the goals. He watched as the Chasers got into formation a few metres above the ground, Pete and Frank a little behind them eying Spencer Smith and Kenneth Harris warily.  
As Dallon looked around, the whistle blew and the players shot off. He shook his head, angry at himself for his lack of focus. Luckily, Gabe had grabbed the Quaffle immediately and flown off towards the other side.  
The captain ducked a Bludger that Harris had sent flying in his direction and attempted to enter the scoring area. A Hufflepuff Chaser blocked him and he quickly threw it to Mikey, who caught it, swerved to avoid the Hufflepuff Chaser who'd flown in front of him, and went for a goal. The keeper tried to save; he didn't catch it, but he managed to knock it slightly so it clipped the side of the goal and bounced off. A Hufflepuff Chaser, behind the goal, caught the Quaffle and zoomed towards the other end of the pitch before Dallon had a chance to process what was happening. As the Chaser threw the ball, he reached for it, his fingers missing it by an inch. The Quaffle sailed through the goal.  
They've improved. Dallon could see Gabe echoing his thoughts as the seventh-year's expression became incredibly focused. Dallon looked back to the game and braced himself for the Hufflepuff's next attempt, determined not to let any more goals through. 

They won by 10 points and only because they'd caught the Snitch. The Hufflepuff team alighted in high spirits, evidently pleased about these results. Dallon's mood had darkened exponentially - he'd let some really sloppy goals in, and his shoulder was aching because Mikey had accidentally sent a Bludger straight into his arm.  
As Dallon and Mikey walked back towards the castle (Pete had gone to talk with Trohman) Mikey suddenly swore. Dallon looked at him curiously.  
"I forgot my broom, I left it in the changerooms. Listen, maybe...fuck, we're gonna be late. Could you just tell the teacher where I am?"  
Dallon nodded, and watched as Mikey dashed off back towards the pitch.  
He felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped. Turning, he saw - to his surprise - Spencer Smith standing behind him. The boy had suspiciously nonchalant expression on his face.  
"Weekes, hey. You played pretty well today."  
Dallon frowned inwardly. "Thanks. I mean, I didn't, really, but thanks. You...played well, too?"  
"Yeah, thanks." Smith gave him a rather searching look, then nodded, gesturing that they should keep walking.  
"So," he started, as they walked up the path. "How're you finding detention with Bren?"  
Dallon nodded, unsure where this was going. "Yeah, okay. I mean, it's not as bad as I thought. He hasn't broken my arm again."  
Smith nodded. "Good, good. He's been okay, then?"  
"Okay? Like, emotionally?"  
Smith frowned slightly, as if unsure what exactly to say. "Yeah, I guess. Emotionally, sure. He hasn't, like, been acting weird or whatever?"  
Dallon was about to shake his head, then stopped. He suddenly remembered the events of the first detention - the trapdoor, the Tentacula, and Urie's strange episode.  
Smith saw his hesitation and looked inquiringly at him. "What happened?"  
Dallon hesitated, then said, "He...during the first detention we had, he had a sort of...seizure thing. But, not a seizure, more like...I don't know. He didn't really want to talk about it. I mean, to me, at least."  
Smith frowned. "He didn't tell me either..."  
"He was fine afterwards, though. Like, he seemed healthy or whatever." Dallon decided not to bring up the Tentacula - Smith seemed slightly on edge already.  
Smith nodded, relaxing slightly, but looking almost intrigued. They kept walking for a moment, then Smith stopped and turned to Dallon.  
"Okay, I'm just gonna ask you straight up. Have you noticed Bren acting...angrier? I mean, you've probably seen him angry more often than I have."  
Dallon frowned, thinking. He supposed Smith was right - before this year, he'd only seen Urie get angry a couple of times, and only at him. But, now he came to think of it, Urie had been acting kind of weird for a couple of months now.  
"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, there was the thing during the holidays, of course. And then...yeah, he has been acting bit weird."  
Spencer nodded. "He's my best friend, you know. I just get kinda worried for him, sometimes. But recently, he..." He looked at Dallon and stopped. "Anyway. Better get to class. You actually don't seem too bad, you know. I know it might seem like Brendon hates you sometimes, but..." He seemed reluctant to continue. "Never mind. I'm just gonna go straight to class, don't need breakfast. I might see you around." He nodded once more, then walked away.  
Dallon looked watched him go, then shrugged, continuing up the path. 

Mikey sprinted down the path back towards the changerooms. The area was almost completely silent, only a slight rustling of leaves to be heard. When he reached the pitch, he went to open the door, but it was locked. He sighed and grabbed his wand, in a hurry to get back to the castle. It was kind of unnerving being here all alone, and in any case he was already going to be late for class.  
"Alohamora."  
He heard a sort of rattling sound. Hopefully, he tried the door again. It was still locked.  
"Fuck." He tried again. This time there wasn't even a sound from the door.  
The sudden sound of a branch cracking from around the other side of the building made him freeze. He blinked, then shook his head: he was being was being paranoid.  
Then the sound came again, accompanied by the unmistakeable rustle of someone walking on dry leaves.  
He froze, sure of what he'd heard this time. He brought his wand up and, trying to hold his breath, edged around the side of the building. He peered around the corner.  
A cloaked figure was standing next to the window, furtively looking inside. As Mikey watched, the figure raised its wand, muttering "Alohamora." The lock on the window clicked open, and the figure pushed it inwards.  
Suddenly, the figure looked up, straight at Mikey, who gasped as he recognised the face. Surely...no, it couldn't be.  
The man cursed and darted away behind the building. When Mikey rounded the corner, he saw that he had already made it halfway to the Forbidden Forest.  
Mikey stopped running, looking after the man. He stared after him, still shocked. For a moment, just in that split second when he’d seen the man’s face, he thought he’d seen his father.  
He walked back to the changerooms, entering through the window that had been unlocked. As he grabbed his broom, his mind was completely preoccupied with what to do. Should he tell Gee? His brother was the only person he really could tell, nobody else would understand…  
And then he remembered that he and Gee weren’t talking, and that even if they were he probably wouldn’t listen if it was about his father, and anyway why the fuck would his father even be here in the first place?  
It was probably just a student playing some stupid trick on him, anyway. Maybe they were trying to steal his broom. He walked back to the school quickly, trying to convince himself that nothing was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I even mention a schedule, I take like a month to update. I'm sorry. It's the holidays now though, so I am hoping to get a shit ton of writing done in the next two weeks. 
> 
> This chapter is quite short, which I'm sorry about. I'm actually thinking I might rewrite it as well, because the quality's not quite as high as I'd hoped. I'm putting it up anyway because it carries all the plot points I needed it to and I didn't want to make you wait (also I want to get on to the next chapters, they're gonna be fun to write). In any case, I hope you still like this chapter. 
> 
> (actually, the next chapter might be rather short as well, but the chapter after that is probably going to be quite long)
> 
> Hopefully we'll see another chapter in the next few days :)


	7. Chapter 7

“Patrick, come on! Please?”  
Gerard let some of the desperation he was feeling seep into his voice. He looked imploringly at the younger student, who was looking torn.  
“Gee, you know, if you want to sort this out, you should just talk to him. You can’t just keep dodging it.”  
Gerard shook his head. “It’s more complicated than that –”  
Patrick gave him a look of pure scepticism, then his expression softened. “I’ll come. But just…think about what I said, okay?”  
Gerard nodded. Suddenly, he noticed the clock and stood up. “Shit, I’m five minutes late, oh God –”  
Patrick held up his hands in a calming gesture. “It’s okay, it’s okay! He’s not gonna just leave because you’re five minutes late.”  
Gerard nodded. “Okay. We should…go, then, I guess.” He got up and, leading the way, started off towards the classroom they were meeting in.

_Gerard gave Frank a nervous but pointed look. “So, what did you want to talk about?”_  
_Frank had the grace to look slightly abashed. “I…just wanted to talk, you know? Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I just…yeah.”_  
_Gerard shrugged. “Okay. I’m here, so go for it.”_  
_“Okay.” He nodded. “Well, I thought you seemed cool on the train, so I was –”_  
_“Yes, you already said that.”_  
_Frank gave an exasperated look. “Geez, I’m trying, okay? If you want me to go away you can say it, you know, just please stop being so ambiguous.”_  
_Gee flushed. “I don’t…I mean, you don’t have to go away.”_  
_Frank nodded. “Okay. Good. We’re getting somewhere.”_

Frank paced back and forth between the desks of the abandoned classroom. Pete watched him amusedly. “You okay, mate? Need a Calming Draught?”  
“What? Oh, no thanks.”  
Pete blinked. “Dude. It was a joke.” As Frank stared at him, he sighed. “I was trying to make you laugh. ‘Cause, you know, you look like you need a laugh.”  
Frank looked at him. “Oh. Right. Thanks.”  
The pink haired boy frowned. “Are you actually okay, dude? You’re really out of it.”  
“…Pete?”  
“Yeah, Frankie-boy?”  
“What if he doesn’t actually like me? Like what if he’s just putting up with me and I’ve really just been annoying him? I mean, he is in his last year, maybe he just sees me as some sort of annoying kid –”  
“Jesus, dude! You’re not like this! Okay, first off,” Pete stood up and faced Frank squarely, “you are normally one of the least childlike people I know, and one year is literally nothing. Secondly, if he was just putting up with you, why would he have asked to talk to you again _and thirdly_ ,” he hurried on before Frank could interrupt, “take it from me. He likes you.”  
Frank’s eyes widened. “Did he... did he say that? Wait, you mean like, like as in _like_ like or just _like_ like? Like, does he –”  
“Frank. Calm down. No, he didn’t say anything, but trust me. He likes you in the sense that Mikey better get used to the idea of seeing you every weekend because his brother wants to have your children.”  
Frank blushed, which was so unusual that Pete almost did a double take. “That’s… excessive and also impossible.”  
Pete shrugged. “At least you’re not unnecessarily panicking now.”  
Frank blinked. Then he smiled ruefully. “Touché, dude.”

_Frank sat back slightly. “So, I hate to bring this up, but Mikey tells me you’ve recently developed a hatred of Muggles.”_  
_Gerard looked at the ground. “Mikey…doesn’t understand things.”_  
_He was expecting Frank to give him the look, the one he got when he said his last name, or when people saw him with his father. Instead, Frank just sat back, looking expectant._  
_“What doesn’t he understand?”_  
_The taller boy paused. “Our father…”_  
_“Mikey says he’s a douche.”_  
_Gerard shook his head almost reflexively. “He…has very particular views of how the world should work. And he doesn’t really… he thinks we should think the same way.”_  
_Frank frowned. “Mikey’s gone against him, why can’t you?”_  
_“That’s exactly why I can’t! Mikey’s younger, Father probably thinks it’s just a phase or something. If I start acting however I want, he might realise we’re serious. The only reason he hasn’t disowned Mikey yet is because he’s the favourite, if I’d done it I’d have been out of the house immediately.”_  
_Frank looked at him for a moment. Then he shook his head slightly. “Your father doesn’t have as much power as you think he does.” As Gerard started to protest, he held up his hands. “I’m not saying you need to tell him to fuck off or anything. But don’t let him stop you being who you actually are.”_  
_Gee gave a hesitant, rueful smile. Then he shook his head. “We shouldn’t even be talking here. Dad might hear, ‘specially seeing as you’re in Slytherin and he knows people…”_  
_Frank’s smile faded. He nodded slightly and gave a forced half-grin. “Right. Well. I’ll see you around, I guess…”_  
_“Wait…” Gerard blurted out as Frank stood up._  
_“No, no, it’s fine, I understand –”_  
_“We could talk later. Somewhere else. Like…Friday afternoon. Five o’clock. In the classroom opposite the portrait of the Pathetic Pyromancer. We could talk about where we’re going. I mean, if we’re going anywhere.”_  
_Frank blinked. Then he grinned. “Alright. Friday afternoon. See you there.”_

As the door opened, Pete looked up, expecting to see the dark-haired object of his friend’s affections looking as nervous as Frank (seriously, you’d think he was gonna propose or something). He was surprised to instead see an exasperated-looking Patrick Stump looking back along the corridor.  
“Come on, Gee! I swear, if you’ve dragged me here just to run off again, I’ll –”  
It was at this point Gerard appeared in the doorway, looking slightly pink. He looked into the room. “Sorry, I was just talking to Professor Abercrombie –”  
Pete grinned. “But I thought Abercrombie was on sick leave?” As Gerard went even redder, he smiled innocently. “I’m sorry, did I say something I shouldn’t’ve?”  
Frank shook his head. “Go away, Pete.”  
Pete grinned even harder. “If you say so. Wanna come, Patty?”  
The nickname seemed to shock the shorter boy, but after getting a resigned shrug from Gerard he nodded and followed Pete out of the room.  
“So,” Pete started, as they walked out of the room. “What’s new with you?”  
Patrick shrugged, slightly hesitantly. “Nothing much. You?”  
“Neither.” Pete thought for a moment. “Any good gossip from the Ravenclaw tower?”  
Patrick frowned. “Really?”  
“What?”  
“Well, I hadn’t really picked you as a gossiper.”  
Pete gave a small shrug. “I’m not really a gossiper as such. I just…like to know things, you know. I like to be where things are going down.”  
“Really?” Patrick chuckled. “There’s nowhere I’d less like to be. I can’t stand useless conflict.”  
“I reckon most conflict’s useless. But I still find it entertaining.”  
Patrick gave an accepting nod. “Well, to answer your question, no, there isn’t much gossip coming from the tower. No, wait.” He looked thoughtful for a second. “Ryan – do you know Ryan Ross?” At Pete’s cautious nod, he continued. “Well, he’s going out with Brendon Urie. You know, the Gryffindor golden boy?”  
Pete sighed ruefully. “Oh trust me. I know the Gryffindor golden boy.”  
“You two aren’t the best of friends then.”  
The pink-haired boy shrugged. “Oh, well , you know what they say. My friend’s enemy is my enemy, or something. You know,” he gave a slight evil grin, “for someone who isn’t much of a gossiper, you sure are pretty good at it.”  
Patrick shook his head. “No, Ryan wanted me to tell people. He seemed pretty eager to get the news out, for some reason. I guess they must be really serious or something.”  
Pete frowned. “That’s weird. Dall said Urie said they didn’t want people to know yet.”  
Patrick gave him an incredulous look. “Pete. If Brendon Urie told Dallon Weekes, it’s probably not that big of a secret.” He stopped walking for a moment. “Look at us. We both said we weren’t gossipers and we’ve been talking about other people for like ten minutes. I guess we should probably go back and check on Frank and Gee.”  
“Yeah…” Pete looked up. “Hey, Patrick, do you wanna come hang out with me and Trohman in Hogsmeade on Sunday?”  
Patrick looked up, almost disbelievingly. “Actually?”  
Pete nodded emphatically. “Of course, why not? You could ask Hurley to come too.”  
Patrick continued to look shocked for a few seconds, then grinned. “That’d be brilliant.”  
Pete beamed. “Great. Let’s go check on the lovebirds.”

Gerard watched Pete and Patrick leave as he regained his breath.  
“So,” started Frank.  
Gee turned around hesitantly, perching himself on one of the desks. “So.”  
“Hi.”  
“Hi.”  
Frank raised an eyebrow. “Polly want a cracker?”  
Gee flushed. “Hah hah.”  
“So.”  
“So…”  
Frank sighed. “We’re not getting anywhere, are we.”  
“What did you want to talk about?”  
Frank frowned. “You were the one who asked, what did you want to talk about?”  
There was a pause. Then Gee shook his head, chuckling. “We really aren’t getting anywhere, are we?”  
They were silent again.  
“We could talk about Mikey?”  
Gee winced. “Let’s not, please.”  
“Okay…”  
In a moment of inspiration, Gee tried to fill the silence. “So, what do you want to do after school?”  
Frank shrugged. “I guess…well, I always wanted to be an Auror as a kid, but now I kind of want to go into…well, I kind of want to go into wandmaking. Unless I get into Quidditch, that would be cool.”  
Gerard nodded. “Sounds like you have a plan.”  
Frank shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. What about you?”  
“I don’t know at all.”  
The other boy frowned. “Really? I mean, nothing against you, but you have less than a term left before you leave school, shouldn’t you have thought about it already?”  
“I have!” Gee felt slightly miffed. “I’ve thought about it loads, I just don’t know.”  
“You don’t have _any_ idea at all?”  
Gerard shook his head. “None.”  
“Oh. I guess you’ll…figure it out or something.”  
The unwanted silence descended again.  
“So…what about music? What’s your favourite band?”  
Gee couldn’t stop himself from blushing slightly.  
Frank looked slightly bewildered. “What did I say?”  
The taller boy looked down. “My favourite band…you won’t tell anyone?”  
“No…not if you don’t want me to…”  
“It’s the Smashing Pumpkins,” he mumbled.  
For a second, Frank stared, and Gerard instinctively stiffened, his subconscious already readying him for a verbal assault.  
Then the shorter boy beamed. “No way, man, really? Me too!” He looked pensive for a moment. “Why is that a bad thing?”  
“It’s…” Gee suddenly realised his mistake. “It’s a Muggle band.”  
To his relief, Frank just looked confused for a few seconds. “Why– Oh, right, the whole dad thing. Well, rest assured, your secret is safe with me. If only because telling your dad you’re actually pro-Muggle would be counter-intuitive to my purposes.”  
Gee cocked an eyebrow. “Your _purposes_?”  
“You know…” Frank grinned suddenly. “ _Getting to know you, getting to know all about yoouu…_ ”  
“Did you just sing _The King and I_ at me?”  
“Never mind that, you _recognised_ it, you really are a Mugglephile.”  
“Don’t call it that, that makes it sound weird!”  
An evil smirk. “I know.”

Pete returned with Patrick to see the other two boys completely engaged in what sounded like a debate about the possibility of bring the Golden Snidget out of extinction using modern Muggle cloning technology. Which was stupid, because how could Muggles do something so advanced without magic? Frank was trying to impress Way, obviously.  
Pete was slightly surprised when Patrick greeted them and confirmed that cloning was, in fact, possible and doable if someone could find some Snidget “DNA” (or something). But he wouldn’t ever admit it.  
Frank seemed incredibly put out to find that it was nearly curfew. He looked, somewhat forlornly, at the other boy, then said, “Well, see you around, I guess.”  
“Wait!” The seventh-year went slightly pink again. “There’s, erm, there’s a Hogsmeade trip thing on Sunday, we could…go together?”  
Frank beamed. “Hell yes! It’s a date–” He stopped, then backpedalled hastily. “I mean, if you wanted it to…it doesn’t have to be…”  
Gerard grinned, although his blush deepened. “It’s a date.”  
Frank looked like he was about to explode in a mushroom cloud of rainbows and sunshine. “Right. Well, um, see you. Then. Bye.”  
Pete waved goodbye at Patrick, who smiled slightly and waved back.  
As they walked away, Frank stopped and turned back to Gerard as if he were going to say something. He grinned like an idiot for a few seconds, then just waved again and continued walking.  
Pete ran to catch up, repressing a grin himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, how it's been so long  
> I'm so sorry I've been gone  
> I was busy writing stuff for....no that's a lie i've done like no writing  
> Yeah....sorry about that. Unfortunately I am such a great procrastinator that I don't just put off stuff I don't want to do, I put off stuff that I really, _really_ want to do.
> 
> This chapter might feel a bit like "getting the Frerard and Peterick out of the way", because that is pretty much what it is. There will be more, but I wanted to establish it before shit starts to get complicated as soon as the plot really gets going.
> 
> No Dallon and Brendon in this chapter, but there will be more. I mean, they still have like three weeks of detention left together!


End file.
